Mihaela’s story of survival: “When I was around him, I would tremble like a mouse in front of a cat”

The abuse endured by Mihaela, whose name has been changed to protect her identity, happened 15 years ago. It would seem that enough time has passed for her to talk about it without reliving the emotions of that period. But that’s not the case. She cried again as if things had happened just yesterday.

"I was sure that I had forgotten it and that what happened didn’t affect me anymore,” Mihaela says. “But it seems that helplessness and frustration seep into your bones and destroy you every time.”

"We met at a mutual friend's birthday," Mihaela begins, recalling those first few days that would change her life. "From the beginning, I was impressed by how different he seemed from the other men I had met. He worked in a public institution, spoke nicely and was polite and respectful. He told me about his family and how difficult it had been for them: his mother had been a victim of violence and he had been working in construction to support his mother and sister ever since graduating. I was deeply attracted to his care for his family and the fact that, from an early age, he assumed the responsibility of supporting them financially. It was proof of strength and devotion that impressed me enormously."

Mihaela remembers how social pressure on young women to accept marriage proposals affected her own decision. "When he proposed to me, I felt somewhere deep down that something was wrong," she says. "But my mother pushed me forward, telling me: 'Mihaela, you are grown up now. Look, you've been in a relationship before, and it didn’t end well. Now, this boy is very good-looking.’"

She felt that a girl who reached the age of 25 without being married ran the risk of being labeled "unmarriable," a stigma that marked her social value. "It wasn’t an extraordinary love, but I thought it would be good for life. My mother insisted I get married," she recounts, emphasizing the influence of those around her on her decision.

Mihaela accepted the proposal, but her fiancé gradually began to exert more subtle control in their relationship. "After I said 'yes,' he would take me to and from work, take me to and then pick me up from my friends. At first, it seemed caring to me, but over time, I began to feel that it was a kind of control," Mihaela recalls. Influenced by the idea that it was ‘love,' she interpreted his gestures as a form of affection at the time, without realizing that they were, in fact, signs of a possessiveness that would grow stronger.

"One day, I came out of the building with a co-worker, and he saw us together,” she says. “He didn’t say anything then, but later, he hit the car's mirror with his fist and broke it. I was shocked. I didn’t ask him what happened, but in my heart, I told myself that maybe he had a hard day at work."

Despite the clear signs of abuse that had begun to appear just before the wedding, Mihaela felt that she could not back down. She already sensed that it was not the love she wanted. "It was not a 100 per cent 'yes,' but the wedding was already organized,” she explains. “My father and mother had strong social ties in the community, and I was their only daughter. They invited 200 people to the wedding. Everyone was waiting, and everything was paid." Her decision to move ahead was influenced by the thought that if she canceled it, it would have caused enormous shame for herself and her family. "Society keeps you within very tight limits," Mihaela says. "I couldn’t back down."

The violence in Mihaela's relationship took many different forms: emotional, verbal, physical and economic. The first form of violence was verbal; her husband began to tell her that she was worthless, that she had not achieved anything in life and that she had no right to tell him what to do.

"He would say things like, 'Who do you think you are? Look at your life; you're nothing without me.' I started to believe him," she confesses. "I was coordinating a team at work. I was responsible for more than thirty pieces of equipment. But when I got home, I felt worthless, like I wasn’t beautiful or capable anymore."

Then, any minor mistake, such as her cooking food he didn’t like, triggered violent reactions. "He could flip the table over," she recalls. The physical abuse intensified over time, combined with tight control over finances. "He took my money from the child allowance; he said that his mother and sister needed it, and we were left with nothing." Even small personal financial contributions were under his control, leaving her and their child in total dependence. "I felt like he destroyed my confidence," she says. "I felt like nothing, and many years later, if something bad happened to me, my first thought was that I deserved it."

In the most challenging moments, Mihaela tried to leave several times but felt something was holding her back. She didn’t ask for help, aware that those around her might judge rather than support her. She wondered what people might say, things like: ‘The wedding was not long ago. How so?’

“My mom pushed me to get married... she was afraid that if you pass 25, no one will want you anymore,” recalls Olga. Her mother-in-law, who had endured a lifetime of abuse, pressured her as well: ‘I endured it, why can’t you?’ She was also surrounded by people who dismissed violence as insignificant. "Whenever I tried to open up, I could see in their eyes that it wasn’t a big deal that he slammed the refrigerator door into my head a few times," she recounts bitterly. These reactions made her feel even more isolated, reinforcing the thought that she had no one to turn to.

Mihaela’s decision to file for divorce came after a significant and traumatic incident. One day, she sent a message to her husband, expressing her desire for a divorce. "I started working and felt I had enough money to leave with my daughter,” she says. “I realized that separating from him wasn’t the end of the world." She asked her husband to move out of the apartment, and he complied. It was the first sign that she could live in safety and peace: "I went to work, didn’t see him for a week and felt freedom. I felt I could breathe in my own home."

But soon, her husband stormed into her office, grabbed her, pulled her hair and started hitting her in front of her colleagues. "It was a mix of fear and shame... everyone saw him beating me," Mihaela says. "My boss came up immediately and warned me: if I don’t file a police complaint, I couldn’t return to work the next day." This threat of losing her job pushed her to act: "Out of fear of losing my job... I went to the police." Mihaela acknowledges that, without that firm warning, she might not have found the courage to take that step. "Maybe I wouldn’t have,” she says. “I was stuck in a closed cycle in my life, unable to see anything beyond it."

Mihaela describes liberation as a slow process. "Week by week, I felt I could breathe, that no one was calling me stupid or telling me how bad I was." At the same time, the support she received from her colleagues and family helped her stay on this path. "My boss transferred me to another branch so I wouldn’t have to face the shame and painful memories. That helped me regain a sense of normalcy."

Mihaela believes that a woman’s journey to freedom from abuse starts from within, with a change in how she perceives her self-worth. Through this painful experience, Mihaela learned that she should never accept a life filled with suffering. "I found the courage to stand up for myself and my child,” she says. “It was hard, but every step was worth it."

She encourages women not to hesitate to reach out to support centers and people who can lend a helping hand. "The most important thing is to ask for help," she says, emphasizing that while it may seem difficult, the support of those around you can make a huge difference. "Of course, you don’t turn to just anyone—not everyone will understand. But if you find someone who can help, ask for help."

If you know someone who is suffering, encourage them to seek help. In situations of severe risk, report it to the authorities by calling 112 or call the Trustline for Women and Girls at 0 8008 8008.

Based on a true story, this article was created for the campaign "Do you see me? Believe me. Stand by me," an initiative raising awareness about violence against women. It is part of the annual 16 Days of Activism Against Gender-Based Violence campaign, implemented by UN Women Moldova in partnership with the Government of the Republic of Moldova and the National Agency for Preventing and Combating Violence Against Women and Domestic Violence, with financial support from the European Union and the Governments of Sweden and Denmark.